Penggali Kubur | Undertaker

Tengku Alias Taib
Penggali Kubur Undertaker

badai mengangkat mayat, kilat, guntur
dan angin ke sebuah gubuk di pinggir hutan.
jendela tersentak; beberapa bilah kilat
memacak engselnya. atap gementar digegar
guntur. ketukan menderu di daun pintu;
lebih tajam daripada kilat, lebih bergegar
daripada guntur, lebih kencang daripada
angin.
“sudah kaubina rumahku?” Tanya mayat sambil
menerjang pintu bagai badai yang menerjang
gubuk tua itu. pintu remuk, palangnya
terpelanting, mayat masuk menyeret badai
mengamuk. “rumahmu? tapi…” kata isteri
penggali kubur yang tinggal sebatang kara.
pelita di sisinya berguling. “suamiku,
penggali kubur itu, baru saja mati dan
baru saja menggali kuburnya.” sambung si
sebatang kara.
dalam gelap, kilat sempat melepaskan tiga
empat bilah cahaya tepat ke wajah pucat
mayat. mayat mengapung di laut ribut.
seperti sehelai selendang putih, ia me-
layang keluar melalui jendela, mencari
tukang rumah.

the storm carried the corpse, the lightning, thunder
and the wind to a hut on the edge of the jungle.
the window was forced open; flashes of lightning
broke its hinges, the roof trembled shaken by
thunder, a pounding wailed from the shutter door;
sharper than lightning, more thunderous
than thunder, harsher than the
wind
“have you built my house?” the corpse asked as it
assailed the door the way the storm assailed
that old hut, the door shattered, its beam
fell heavily. The corpse entered dragging the storm
going mad. “your house? but…” said the widowed
wife of the undertaker.
the lamp by her side tipped over. “my husband,
the undertaker, only just died and
only just dug his grave.” the widow
continued.
In the dark, the lightning landed three
four flashes of light upon the pale face
of the corpse. the corpse floated on the sea of the storm.
like a white shawl, it flew
out through the window, in search
of a builder

—translated by Eddin Khoo